The Right Time
by RoslinSharp
Summary: "It's not just about finding the right person, but the right time," Trip's grandpa used to tell him. Trip never understood what he meant until he met Jemma Simmons. (Note: This is a oneshot that will not be continued.)


For Trip, growing up the grandson of a Howling Commando was no big deal. Being Gabe Jones' grandson **and** aShield agent was a different story.

Trip's dad, Antoine Triplett Sr, died in Desert Storm months a few days after his son started first grade. He had been a chubby kid back then, sitting in the back of the classrom proudly spelling his name out in macaroni letters. Then the principal, a fat whie man who had barely spared Trip a glance when he won the spelling bee, had come in and taken him to his crying mother.

Francine Jones Triplett never really recovered from her husband's death. She eventually stopped crying, found a good job, even went on a few dates, but there was always something sad about Mom, even when she smiled.

Dad's pension wasn't enough to pay the bills, so his grandparents came down from Georgia to stay with them. Nana got to work right away getting the house in order, enlisting her grandson as her chief helper. Granddad, who got shot in the leg in WWII, spent most of his days sitting in his armchair.

Trip knew about Captain America and the Howling Commandos, but it wasn't until he was ten that he began to connect his grandpa's old war stories with the history they taught at school.

"Now don't you go telling your school friends about me.," Grandpa Jones said as he reached for his pipe, "I'm old, don't have time to deal with all that nonsense about being a legend."

Nana explained it better.

"Your grandfather thinks what he did for our country is its own reward. He don't want no credit, no glory. He's humble like that. Be proud of your grandpa Antoine, there sure ain't many like him."

Trip nodded and agreed to keep his mouth shut, a promise he would keep long after Gabriel Jones died four years later. He enrolled in Shield Academy, hoping he could be one tenth the man his grandpop had been, but made no mention of the man himself.

….

"I switched from German to French because the girls in French class were cuter. Ended up marrying a woman who couldn't speak a lick of either language."

They had been on Coney Island, just a few days before Grandpa suffered his fatal heart attack. Trip had just gotten his adolescent heart broken by Cindy Rivers, prompting Gabe to break out his cane and meet the outside world in hopes of cheering his grandson up.

Trip nodded, he had heard the story before. Grandma and Grandpa had grown up next door to each other in Macon, Georgia. Grandpa had gone to war and back to find the woman of his dreams had been under his nose the entire time.

"But how do you know," Trip had asked, "that you've met the right person."

Gabe Jones laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that shook him from the top of his head to the balls of his feet.

"Trust me kid, you'll know. It's not just about the woman, it's about the right time. I wasn't ready for your grandma when I went off to war."

…

Trip never understood what his granddaddy meant, (in fact, it sounded kind of sexist), until he met Jemma Simmons. Intelligent, brave, and absolutely gorgeous, Trip had been smitten from the start.

"First chance I get," he told Garrett, "I'm buying that lady a drink."

Trip never got the chance to ask. Not long after, their whole world went tip-top crazy. Hydra came out of the shadows, Garrett and Ward turned out to be traitors, and Fitz almost died. Throughout it all, Trip stayed with Coulson's team. If he was going to die, at least he would take a few of those Hydra scum with him. Grandpa Jones would have done the same thing.

…

"The doctors are saying he may never wake up."

The kid lying on the bed didn't look anything like the Leo Fitz Trip had come to know. His skin was as white as the sheets he lay on and a breathing tube was shoved down his throat. The heart monitor was the only indicator that his colleague was still alive.

Trip had seen all types of carnage in his time as a specialist and med tech, but comas were the worst. There was just something terrible about a person breathing and eating through a machine.

He'd seen a couple of his buddies share the same fate, been there personally to cut the lines for one of them. The more Trip looked at Fitz, the angrier he became. Too bad May had beaten him to it, Trip would have loved to smash Ward's face in himself.

Simmons looked terrible, the lines around her eyes told him she hadn't slept for days.

"All these years, working side by side. You know, there were times at the Academy when we even shared the same bed. I had no clue. He never said a word."

"Said what?"

Jemma shook her head and blew her nose on a handkerchief.

"It's nothing Antoine, I'm tired and rambling nonsense. I must look such a mess."

Trip put his arms around her and savored the feel of her small body against his. He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful.

"Agent Simmons, you look like you need a good night's sleep," he said sternly. "In fact, I'm gonna make that an order, level six to level five."

Jemma's lips turned up in the ghost of a smile. Other than Coulson being the boss, nobody took their old ranks seriously anymore.

"Well, if you insist _**boss**_," she replied teasingly.

She learned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Thank you Trip, I don't know what I would do without friends like you."

Trip watched her as she walked away, trying not to let his heart sink into his chest. He should have known. Fitz and Simmons had struck him as more brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend. Clearly, Fitz had thought differently. If anything, it explained why Fitz had been so hostile when Trip first climbed onboard the bus.

Did Jemma feel the same way about Fitz? He doubted it, but either way this was not the right time to ask her out for that drink. She needed time to heal, they all did.

….

He couldn't be her lover but he could definitely be her friend. With May training Skye and Coulson spending most of his days locked away in his office, they pretty much had the bunker to themselves. Trip learned that, contrary to everything he had heard about the English, Jemma hated tea. He teased her about it, but always made sure there was a pot of fresh coffee ready for her in the morning. In turn, Jemma introduced him to Doctor Who, which was surprisingly fun. They even built their own makeshift Tardis in the bus' hangar bay.

"Trip," Jemma said one day as they sipped margaritas in front of the television. (Having run out of episodes of Doctor Who to watch, they had moved on to the The Wire, one of Trip's favorites.) "Teach me how to fire a gun."

He couldn't say he was surprised. In fact, Trip was a bit ashamed he hadn't thought of the idea himself. After being thrown into the bottom of the ocean it made sense Jemma would want to learn to protect herself and, with Skye in training, she was the only non-combatant on the team.

"Sure thing," he said with a smile, "Tomorrow at 6:30 sound good?"

….

Trip stared at Jemma's ballistics in near disbelief.

"Damn girl, I thought you said you'd never done this before."

"I haven't," Simmons' replied with a smile, "it's really just a matter of simple physics. The trajectory of the ball versus the amount of pressure I put on the gun. I could go on for hours but if I'm sure you get the gist, Agent Triplett."

"Yeah, I got it, but guns aren't everything." He should have known those slim, smooth hands that could perform the most delicate of surgeries would be able to fire a gun with ease.

"Oh, do you mean self-defense? Skye taught me that the other day. Would you care for a demonstration?"

There was a flirtatious tone to her voice that made his heart skip a beat. Was it finally the right time? Maybe he was the one who wasn't ready?"

"Triplett, Simmons!" May's voice echoed from the other end of the room.

"We've got incoming!"

….

"May to Coulson here, we are under attack! I repeat, we are under attack!"

"Unbelievable," Triplett muttered, "Talbot and the U.S. government are sending giant robots after us."

"Affirmative, May," Coulson's voice crackled over May's comm, "I want you and Skye out on defense. Simmons, I need you in the lab. With Fitz gone, you're our expert on robotics. Trip, you're responsible for her safety."

"Got it, sir," Trip yelled over the comm.

He and Simmons ran towards the bus at breakneck speed. Above them, the sound of Talbot's war machines pounded against the roof of the bunker.

"Coulson says we have less than 10 minutes before those things breach the compound." Trip said as he pulled up the lab's holographic interface.

"I don't know if I have ten minutes", Jemma sadly replied, "Oh Fitz, I wish you were here."

Trip placed a reassuring hand on Simmons' shoulder.

"Jemma, you're fine, we can do this without him. Let's send one of the D.W.A.R.F.S. out for a little recon. Grumpy should do the trick."

"It's Sleepy, but that would be perfect and – wait, I know these schematics, Fitz and I used to make fun of them back at the academy. This is Hammer tech!"

Trip had to suppress a laugh.

"I need Talbot was a slippery, slimmy bastard, but I never pegged him for stupid."

Another crash had the plane reeling and Trip struggling to keep his balance.

"Hey guys, I hope you've found a way to stop these things." This time it was Skye's voice over the intercom. "They made it through the front gate."

Jemma was already sifting her way through the lab's holographic records.

"Oh, I know exactly how to get rid of these nasty robotic monstrosities. Hacking Hammer Tech was an essential for any first-level engineering student. Fitz called it child's play."

The plane rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker on and off.

"Trip!", Jemma screamed. Trip didn't get the chance to see his assailant before his world went black.

…

He woke up on one of the medical beds, with his head throbbing and sharp pain in his side.

'Gunshot wound,' he thought. 'All these months in the bunker have made me soft.'

"Well, look who's finally awake," said a familiar female voice.

He looked around. The laboratory was trashed, but the basics were intact. Jemma seemed fine.

"Agent Simmons, what happened?"

"You were attacked by one of Justin Hammer's drones, gave us quite a fright. I managed to grab your gun before you fell and shot it right in its left peripheral lobe." She shook her head in dismay. "Terrible technology, I don't know what Talbot was thinking."

Her tone lightened.

"As for you, Agent Triplett, you won't be going anywhere outside that bed for the next two days.

Trip groaned. There was nothing he hated more than bed confinement.

"Hey, could be worse. At least I've got the best doctor out there taking care of me."

Jemma smiled, one of those big grins that brought out her freckles and the tiny wrinkles at the corner of her mouth. She sat down on the edge of Trip's bed and squeezed his hand.

Trip ran his fingers over the palm of her hand.

"You know Jemma, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"Really," she replied flirtatiously, "I have this funny feeling that it's been the same thing I've been meaning to say to you, Agent Triplett."

And with that she leaned over the bed and kissed him. The right time had finally come.


End file.
